


bad day, good day

by mrscartoon



Series: within these walls [2]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Smut for later, fluff for now, work place au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:23:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5129162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrscartoon/pseuds/mrscartoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bog is having a really bad day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bad day, good day

**Author's Note:**

> set a few weeks to a month after 'the merger'.

Bog was having a _really_ bad day.

It began with three missed alarms, getting stopped by a cop for speeding, arriving thirty minutes late to a meeting with Mr. Fairfield (which he pardoned and rescheduled; _You look a sight, son. Perhaps you should get some rest._ ), and discovering that Roland Green had slept with not one, but _two_ wives of tentative partners that now wanted nothing to do with the company.

And to add the cherry on top of the shit cake, he had not been able to be alone with Marianne. After the merger party, they would sometimes sneak away to dark corners of the building and shared heated kisses. But, it was a place of work and they didn’t want to get caught. Even if it seemed like the only place where they could get some time with each other. 

They almost did once; see each other outside of work. Everything had been settled, there were no loose ends and for a minute everything seemed to be going smoothly. They decided to celebrate at his place.

Bog had tried to dissuade her from going to his place, that hers would be infinitely better. He was too embarrassed to admit that his apartment was far too large for one person and looked more like a show room than an actual home. He spent so much time at his office than his actual place that he felt like a stranger whenever he stepped in.

Marianne simply waved it off, letting him know they would be too busy for her to cross examine her home. And if it truly was that bad, she’d help him break it in. That got a blush out of him and a wide grin from her.

Shirts were unbuttoned, lips were swollen, and soon the large apartment was filled with his ringing cellphone.

_“Ignore it,” she gasped as he bit and licked the crook of her neck._

_“’S the plan,” he replied with a smirk._

Immediately both phones began to ring incessantly and they begrudgingly had to face the reality of their demanding jobs. Problems to fix, people to yell at, no time for passion.

Filled with anger and a plain bagel, Bog was in such a foul mood that it practically radiated off of him. Theodore and Stephanie simply called his intercom to give him news, rather than enter his office and face his wrath. However, it was only so long until Bog had to leave his office and face the rest of the workers.

 

 

By the afternoon, the entire building steered clear of Bog. They could hear his footsteps and yells a mile away. No one was safe from the ragging Scot. Every slip and stutter was exploited and he would tear down every defensive wall until they were whimpering apologies for breathing 

Everyone was walking on eggshells.

Bog stood at the center of the fifth floor, the call center, looking down at every worker. His eyebrows low and scowl accentuated the lines on his face. No one raised a head to look at him or said a word out of place. 

For a moment he felt like everything was going smoothly and maybe he could take control of his shit day and make it better.

“I feel like we’re in that show about British politics. The one with the Scottish guy screaming at everything and everyone is too afraid to blink around him,” a voice piped up behind him. 

It was light and filled with humor and it set Bog’s blood on fire

“If you fucking have time to make idle chat, you have time to fucking work. Now go before I rip you a new hole, _do you understand?_ ” Bog yelled. 

He turned towards the voice and instantly sucked in his lips, eyes going wide.

In front of him stood Marianne with one raise eyebrow and eyes set to murder. The entire floor went quite. Even the ringing telephones seemed to suddenly stop altogether. His heart was pounding a mile a minute and he felt his hands begin to collect cold sweat.

Oh, he fucked up so bad.

Marianne shoved the thick folder towards his chest, not hesitating to push him hard. He tumbled backwards slightly.

“How about you shut the hell up and lock yourself away in your office before half the building quits because their _shit boss_ won’t stop yelling at nothing. _Asshole._ ”

Without missing a beat, Marianne turned her back to him and walked straight to the elevator. He could hear her breathing in and out heavily, trying to control her temper, but she had every right. She had every right to scream, to put him in his place and make him feel small.

And he felt minuscule.

He wanted to run to her. Drop the folders and go straight in to the elevator with her, apologize on his knees, but he couldn’t. 

It was still a place of work and they didn’t want to get caught.

 

 

After Bog yelled at Marianne, he was too afraid to leave his office. He moped around and idly checked his e-mails, made calls, and kept his mind busy. Anything to keep him from remembering how royally he had messed up.

It didn’t work. 

Bog kept thinking back to her, how behind her murderous expression laid a tinge of hurt. It made him think of Diane. To when he would come home from work late and she would yell at him. 

_“You say you want to get married, but you can’t even come home at a normal hour to be with me. All you do is_ work. _You work until you can’t see straight and forget you have a life outside of that cubicle.”_

_Bog would cringe and apologize and tell her it was for a better future._

_They lived in such a small apartment, in the slums of Glasgow where the height of luxury was not having to share warm water with the rest of the tenants. The floors creaked, the neighbors were loud in every activity they engaged in, they had to save money for groceries, and Bog at times wanted to cry at how low they were._

_He just wanted to give her everything._

_“A better future for us is you cutting back on your hours or me leaving.”_

_He didn’t respond. He would give her the night to see what it was he was trying to do for her. for_ them.

_She left the next day. Their apartment was barren with just his minimal possessions. No note._

_He called Diane immediately, begging her to come back, telling her he wouldn’t work so hard anymore. He’d be there for her whenever she needed him. To please come back. He held on to his phone so tightly his knuckles were white. A velvet box with an engagement ring stared back at him on the crooked kitchen table._

_“I can’t, Bog. All that time alone, waiting for you to come home, I had time to think. I realized I wasn’t happy._ You don’t make me happy. _”_

After the call, Bog devoted every second and every minute of every day to working and getting better at what he did. He worked hard until he forgot what it was like to be human.

Going up the ranks, owning companies, starting his own and creating strong partnerships with others that lived and breathed work, Bog accepted his future. Alone in an office with paper work and phone calls controlling his every decision.

But then Marianne appeared. He had been stunned by her beauty when they first met and it only grew with every word that slipped from her lips. She was smart, witty, sly, strong, and Bog could probably make a list twenty pages long describing how perfect she was.

Late nights were spent laying in bed thinking about how astounded he was that a person like her truly existed. A literal embodiment of perfection and when they fooled around during the merger party, these thoughts only seemed to solidify in his mind. Not even Diane had been able to make his heart and mind run as wild as Marianne did.

And that was terrifying.

The notion that his yelling at her would ruin what they had, whatever it was, made his chest ache. Bog didn’t want to lose her. Letting Diane go had stung. Letting go of Marianne would destroy him.

Without further thought, Bog grabbed his things and left his office with a muttered goodbye to his assistants. He refused to let history repeat itself. He wouldn’t let his work get in the way at a second chance at happiness.

 

 

Standing in front of Marianne’s door, knocking continuously until she answered, Bog realized he didn’t really have a plan. He had driven all the way there, but he didn’t even know what he was going to say to her. Chances were he would apologize over and over until he lost his voice. Maybe she would take pity on him and accept the apology.

What if that didn’t work? What if she did something to derail his weak plan? 

Bog groaned. It was Marianne, of course she would. She was far from predictable. He both hated and admired that about her. 

There was no more time to think about it though, her door opened and there Marianne stood glaring up at him. She wore black cotton shorts and a purple muscle tee. Her legs were long and smooth and her crossed arms did wonders to her chest. Bog would’ve groaned at the sight if he knew he wasn’t in such deep shit.

They both stood in silence for a good half a minute.

“You yelled at me,” was all she said.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Marianne. I didn’t mean to yell at you. If I had known it was you behind me, I wouldn’t have said anything like that.” He held on to his hands tightly to the point where blood was being cut off; he didn’t care.

“You yelled at me,” Marianne reiterated.

“I’m a fucking twat.”

That seemed to get him into her good graces.

“Yeah, you are.”

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry,” he said over and over.

She just stood there with her crossed arms and defensive stance and it felt like he was back with Diane. Trying so fucking hard to get her back, apologizing for every mistake he made. Doing anything and everything to have her back. To please marry him.

However, he wasn’t asking Marianne to marry him or forgive him for working to the bone; they weren’t even dating. They made out and touched and wanted to fuck. She had every right, and then some, to slam the door on his face. Tell him he was the scum of the Earth and she never wanted his hands touching her again.

It would hurt more than Diane telling him he would only ever be good enough for work, but he would take it. Take it and let it fester inside till the day he died.

Marianne opened the door wide and made a motion for him to follow her inside. Bog stayed planted on his spot for a few moments. He expected a quick ‘ _just don’t do it again_ ’ and a slam of the door, not this. Quickly, he entered the apartment and closed the door softly. 

His clear blue eyes took in the white walls and single, dark velvet purple wall where her tv and bookshelves were located. The floors were wood and so was most of the furniture. The kitchen was large and the open door to the master bedroom exposed scattered clothing. The apartment felt lived in. 

It felt like his childhood home back in Scotland where his father built everything from scratch and the house smelled of woodwork. 

This was nothing like his current home, sterile and barely lived in.

Suddenly Marianne was in front of him and caressed his face with both hands; Bog let out a shutter of breath. 

It felt like coming home.

He held on to her hands and refused to move, keeping his eyes tightly shut. He could tell by the twitching of her fingers against his cheeks she was getting angsty. As much as he wanted to stay in that position, he brought her hands down.

“Are you okay?”

Bog chuckled, “No.”

Marianne nodded and brought him to her faded, red couch. The lived in couch with obvious dents that people sat on it for long periods of time. He didn't know why such a small detail made him happy.

They sat facing each other, she didn’t let go of his hands even as she awkwardly crossed her legs. Neither said a thing for a while, which Bog greatly appreciated, but he knew he had to say something soon.

“So,” she began, “Why did you have a stick up your ass today?”

Bog couldn’t help but smile. “Just a bad day.”

“Nah, I know a bad day. You had to have had a catastrophic day for a reaction like yours.”

“It wasn’t catastrophic.”

“Then why were you terrorizing everyone?”

Another silence filled the apartment.

Bog wanted to let it all out. About the terrible day, about Diane, how he fell for Marianne after several meetings and one passionate night. He wanted to lay his heart out in her hands, screw the consequences.

Instead he told her about the missed alarms, the speeding ticket, the missed appointment with her father, and the incident with Roland and the two wives. He did everything in his power to omit that not being able to be alone with her was the final straw to his fowl mood. Bog already accepted the fact that Marianne would give him a pep talk and show him the door, he didn’t want to hasten the action by admitting his unwanted feelings.

‘It’s just sex, you idiot. Stop feeling,’ he continuously told himself when he looked at Marianne and caught a hint of sympathy in her eyes that made his heart flutter.

Marianne rubbed the back of his hands with her thumbs and Bog wished she would stop. It felt too comforting, too much like emotional support. He didn’t want to have his hopes up high and have them crashing down in a pit of fire.

“Tomorrow will be a better day.” There was the pep talk. “I know today was a shit, but you shouldn’t let hard times affect the way you are at work. Contrary to what you like to think, people at work really like having you as a boss. You actually care about their mental health and making sure that everything goes smoothly without overworking them to the bone. Today was kind of a slap in the face and a step back from that.”

Bog looked away and cringed. He felt like such an ass.

The feeling of a small hand on his cheek made Bog look back up at Marianne. She had a sympathetic smile on her face. He didn’t know who began to lean in, but all that mattered was that they were now kissing and it felt heavenly.

Like every other kiss they initiated, it began softly and tentatively, like kids kissing for the very first time. But once the initial kisses were out of the way, Bog could feel Marianne’s tongue lick his bottom lip and it escalated from there.

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Bog gently pushed Marianne down on the couch kissing her as thoroughly as he possibly could. They moved and angled their bodies to get comfortable on the couch without separating for a second. The thought of stopping never once crossed his mind. All he knew was that he needed her moans to keep going and her hands to keep burrowing themselves in his hair.

All Bog needed was Marianne.

Once again, dread filled Bog at the thought. He cared for her too much and chances were she just wanted the sex. She probably prided in herself in knowing she had her boss under her thumb. Because she did. God, she did.

Bog grabbed her wrists as her hands made their way to his shirt’s buttons. Separating their lips with a low smack, they both struggled to breathe for a moment. He hadn’t even realized how heated it had gotten, but their shallow breathing and her raised shirt was proof enough.

He wanted nothing more than to continue snogging on her couch. Actually, all he had to do was let go for her wrists and keep going, act as if he never hesitated. But it was too late, she was looking at him with a curious expression and he was so fucking in love it hurt.

He was so in love and he couldn’t even remember when it happened.

“I-I’m sorry,” Bog whispered leaning his forehead against hers. “It’s not that I don’t want to, trust me I do. I just kind of want to eat and watch shitty movies and pretend today never happened.” 

And he was petrified Marianne will shoo him away, tell him to go home to unwind and call her when he was ready to go at it.

However, Marianne simply nodded.

“Sure,” she laughed. “I know my bad days are always fixed with Chinese food and B Horror films.” Without any qualms, she brought his face down, kissed him a final time and shoved him so he sat on his legs.

Bog stared at her with wide-eyed delight before going back down on her, wrapping his arms around her. His body practically engulfed hers and he held her so fiercely, he thought he would accidentally fracture some bones in her body. He didn’t care though, she actually wanted to spend time with him.

She actively wanted to waste time with him sitting on a couch, eating bad food, and watching bad movies. Marianne didn’t just rely on physical activities to be with him. It was a far cry from a declaration of love, but it was enough. It was so much more than enough.

“You’re amazing,” Bog whispered against her neck as he rubbed his face deeper in to the hug.

He could feel Marianne’s hesitance and thought he over stepped his boundaries, but soon her arms wrapped around him. She chuckled softly, he could feel it vibrate through him and it felt divine.

“You’re so weird, you nerd.” Her words were warm and filled with such passion.

Bog ached pleasantly all over and tightened his grip for a second longer before letting go. He grinned down at her, happy to see her return the smile with a tilt of her head.

 

 

The night continued on, with warm Chinese food and two atrocious horror films Netflix recommended on Marianne’s account. She bashfully admitted that it wasn’t just on bad days that she watched horrible movies, it was her guilty pleasure. Bog loved the way her eyes went wide when he let out that whenever he got home from work, he would put on mindless low budget 80’s films while he ate dinner. 

With every clichéd line, bad acted scene, horrible filming, and odd editing the two leaned closer and closer to one another. Soon enough, the food was gone and Bog had his arm over Marianne’s shoulders as she nestled happily against his chest.

Bog never thought he would feel such happiness from simple domesticity. This was what he had missed with Diane. This was the simple life she had spoken about, that he refused to acknowledge in favor of working endless nights. Holding Marianne closer, he nuzzled his cheek on top of her head, causing her to laugh and swat her hand towards him. 

This only served for him to keep going, until she was a giggling mess trying to push him away, but he only held her tighter.

He stopped when a yawn overcame him and Marianne caught it, yawning just as deeply as he had. Awkwardly, he dislodged himself from her, scratching the back of his neck.

“I’ll take that as my cue to go home.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Marianne said as she grabbed his hand as he made the notion to get up. “Stay the night. No funny business, just good ol’ fashioned sleep.”

And how could Bog even contemplate saying no to her.

With hands held tightly, they made it to her bedroom and began to strip for the night. 

He was anxious at first, but as he watched Marianne take it all off except for her bra and underwear, Bog found an ounce of bravery to strip down to his boxers. They slipped into the cold, queen sized bed and huddled together for warmth. 

“You good?” Marianne whispered, her face pressed against his chest.

“I’m perfect,” Bog responded, holding her extra tight.

Bog slept better that night than he had in years.


End file.
